


Three Wishes

by Canaan



Series: How It Could Have Happened [24]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: Introspection, Multi, Plot What Plot, Stand Alone, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-12
Updated: 2011-04-12
Packaged: 2017-10-17 23:18:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/182400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Canaan/pseuds/Canaan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>" . . . it's either a 52nd century sex toy--the kind of practical joke that will <i>really</i> liven up a party--or a primitive Morovian timelock big enough to seal in most of the south coast."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Wishes

**Author's Note:**

> Falls after TW s2 and DW s4--sometime before [Your Eyes Say](http://canaana.livejournal.com/25266.html), but can be read completely stand-alone. With regards to St. Yamx of the Lightning-Fast Beta.
> 
> Disclaimer: RTD and the BBC own all.

There comes a point in every woman's life where she finds herself in a undeniably compromising position that seems completely reasonable at the time. Usually it's a bachelorette party or a girls' night out--something she can excuse to herself later because she was drunk at the time.

Gwen finds herself in the middle of the Hub, wearing nothing but her bra and knickers, balancing on one foot. It only dawns on her what kind of a picture that makes when she catches Jack's eyes lingering on her inner thigh. "Oi!" she complains, promptly putting her foot down.

"You can't blame him," Ianto says mildly. "It was worth looking at."

Gwen shoves a sweat-soaked lock of hair out of her eyes and turns to look at him. "How would you know? You weren't looking."

He looks every bit as bad as she does, standing there with sweat soaking into the waistband of his briefs as he holds the other end of the device. It's not ever meant to be 39°C in Cardiff. Certainly not for the fourth day in a row. If she and he were ever body-shy, it was a long time ago--before injuries and paramedic's scissors and the occasional maudlin too-drunk-to-work-my-own-zip sort of a night--but in this context, with the heat muddling her brain, she can't help but notice the way the light gleams off the sweat on Ianto's skin, highlighting the finer points of his physique. "Wrong angle," he says, his voice limp with the heat, "I was looking at your arse."

"Shit!" Jack swears with feeling.

Gwen and Ianto both look at him abruptly. "Shit?" Gwen repeats. "How bad is 'shit'?"

"Either I just disarmed it, or it just went off," Jack says.

They all look down at the device. To Gwen, it looks mainly like a heavy and unwieldy chunk of green plastic, but according to Jack, it's either a 52nd century sex toy--the kind of practical joke that will _really_ liven up a party--or a primitive Morovian timelock big enough to seal in most of the south coast. Controlled by a timer that now reads 00:00.

"Well, how do we know which?" Gwen asks.

Jack stares at the device for a few moments more. Then that big, cheesy grin spreads across his face as he raises his eyes, letting them linger on her breasts before they move any higher. It's Jack, so Gwen can ignore that. But then he opens his mouth. "Shag me now?" he suggests.

Ianto rolls his eyes, because that could just be Jack being Jack, but Gwen has to swallow hard to keep from saying, _God, yes._ Lucky for her dignity, the words stick in her throat. It gives her enough time to get angry: They're halfway to heatstroke, they might be timelocked, and Jack's talking rubbish! _I always want to shag you,_ she thinks, _when I don't want to crawl inside you and find the little boy there and kiss all his hurts until they're better, instead. I wish there were some way for me to love Rhys and love you at the same time . . . and you're_ making fun of me _._

***

  
Ianto watches Gwen watching Jack watch Gwen. The question is so predictable, right down to the flirtatious gleam in Jack's eye, and Gwen's answer (lodged firmly somewhere behind her uvula) is so obvious that everyone knows it but Jack. Ianto carefully lets his end of the device-- _please don't let us be timelocked_ \--rock down to rest on the conference table, wondering how to keep his . . . well, whatever he and Jack are . . . from breaking his best friend.

"Don't tell him no," he says. "I'm not sure his ego can take it."

He surprises a laugh out of Gwen, moves up behind her and squeezes her shoulder, damp fingers adhering lightly to sweat-sticky skin. The look Jack gives him is dryly amused. "You know, you're not at your most diplomatic when you're standing around in your underpants, Ianto."

Ianto turns his head to look at Gwen. "He's just jealous because he's still overdressed," he says.

Gwen only partly manages to muffle a snicker. With the temperature gone through the roof and humidity near 100%, Jack is somehow still wearing his trousers. "Hey!" he protests. "I'll show you mine if you'll show me yours."

Ianto and Gwen look at him, look at each other, and look back at him, as if they've planned it. Ianto shrugs, only then noticing Gwen's arm around his waist. "Nothing you haven't seen before," he says.

Jack's eyes go to Gwen for a telling moment before he smirks at Ianto. "Put your money where your mouths are," he says.

There's a part of Ianto that can't believe he's doing this, but then, he's not entirely sure how he ended up in this ridiculous situation to begin with. He's been shagging, dating, and slowly falling in love with (and isn't that supposed to go the other way round?) another man . . . who nearly killed him and feels some kind of great affection for him, but who's actually in love with the woman beside him. And by the way, they're all about to be naked and Ianto's hand is on her arse and it feels like it was made to fit there. "You said sex toy or timelock. You're sure it couldn't be an Infinite Improbability Drive?" Ianto asks, slipping his pants down over his hips and trying not to think about it as he drops them to the floor and steps out of them.

Gwen watches Jack, not him. Jack just grins. She glares at him for a moment before complaining, "How did I get into a willy-measuring contest with the two of you?" She reaches behind herself to unclasp her bra, and Ianto is very carefully not watching as the blue cotton bra falls to the floor, followed by matching knickers.

Jack knows no such social niceties. " _Ver_ y nice. Much better than blue cotton."

If they weren't so flushed with heat already, Ianto thinks Gwen would be blushing. "Lace chafes when it's this hot," she mumbles.

"It does," Jack agrees, unbuckling his belt.

Gwen shakes her head, but she can't quite keep the smile off the corners of her lips. Ianto has more practice--he's been spending more time around Jack. "I don't want to know how you know that," he says.

"There are plenty of time periods when men wear lace," Jack says, drawing his trousers and pants down with an easy hitch to get them over the beginnings of what should eventually be an impressive erection.

Ianto feels himself responding to the sight and tries to think about something else. "Enjoying the view much?" he asks Jack.

It's Gwen who answers. "More than I should be," she says, visibly disturbed as she turns to Ianto.

Ianto looks down at her so-serious face, all dark eyes and full lips just begging to be kissed. He swallows. "It's a sex toy," he says. His hand is resting on her hip again, and he doesn't know how it got there.

Gwen bites her lip. She nods. Jack, for once, is mercifully silent. Ianto bends and brushes his lips against hers, but it's not enough, and they both know it. Their mouths meet fiercely, desperately seeking deeper contact, and the scent of her makes him pull her tight against him. She moans into the kiss.

A broad hand rests on his shoulder, and Ianto feels Jack's hardness pressed against his arse. _I wish I could make things work out for you,_ he thinks. _Rhys will always be there. She can never really be yours, and I wouldn't be selfless enough to give you up. You can't be everything to each other--it would probably all end in tears if you tried. But I can make this okay for both of you by being here. I can love you both so you can let yourselves love each other, so you don't have to look back on this with regret. I can give you this moment. I can give you this._

***

  
Four levels down, jammed away in a storeroom, there's a bed big enough for three. It squeaks, and they're still sticky with sweat and humidity, but it's a little cooler down here. They throw a blanket on the dusty mattress and throw themselves on the blanket. It's so very right to see Ianto's mouth on Gwen's nipple, to watch him drag that talented tongue down the length of her body and taste the folds of her labia. More people should make love to their friends--it beats having sex with your enemies.

Gwen's breasts are just enough to fill Jack's hands, and she's as responsive as he always knew she would be. He holds her in his lap as he Ianto buries himself in her body, his hands free to roam over both of them.

Ianto brings her, and the look on her face as she comes is one of those perfect moments Jack sees far too few of his life. But the look on Ianto's face is almost one of pain, and Jack recognizes it--he's waiting, holding off, even though his body is more than ready for release. He kisses Gwen as she rides out the aftershocks, then leans over her shoulder and kisses Jack. As he pulls away, Jack catches the look in his eyes: dark, too old for his body, and yet, full of a quiet joy and mischievous invitation.

Jack understands, then, and if he didn't, the way Ianto pulls out of Gwen and backs away, waiting, would make it plain. And how much does he treasure that gift? He loves them both so much in that moment that he aches with it and it's hard to breathe.

The moment doesn't last, can't last--not with Gwen smelling of sex and sweat, not with Ianto kneeling back on his heels, still wearing a condom and waiting for them both.

Kissing Gwen is like coming home, and oh! that's dangerous. She's sweet and hot under his mouth, and the way her hardened nipples brush against his chest sends a shiver of delight down his spine. Ianto is beside them as they explore each other's bodies, murmuring appreciation and encouragement in a mangled mix of English and Welsh. Jack's trying to memorize everything about her, trying to trap this moment in amber so he can keep it in his mind forever . . . but it's already going too fast. She's lithe in his arms and tight around him, rising and falling in a rhythm that's going to end this much too quickly.

Ianto murmurs, "Slower," and touches her shoulder. She opens her eyes to look at him, smiles, and slows. He works his way behind Jack then, thumbs slipping down over his vertebrae to part the cheeks of his arse.

It's perfect. He has Gwen, whom he's wanted to see abandoned to pleasure in his arms since the moment he laid eyes on her, riding him as he kneels; and Ianto, who's worked his way into Jack's life so slowly and deftly that Jack doesn't know when he realized he didn't want to be without him, braced behind him, holding him close and stroking Gwen's hip as he thrusts deep into Jack's body.

Gwen and Ianto have decided the aphrodesibomb went off. Reasonable enough: a timelock would kill the Hub's satellite uplink, and a few minutes of that would set off an alarm. He'll let them go on believing it--it's not like either of them has ever felt one before to know the difference--so they can look at each other afterward, clear-eyed and without regret. Months from now, or years if they're lucky, they'll remember this to each other and laugh about it--about the one time, mad with the heat and giddy with relief, that they got to do exactly what they wanted.

 _I wish this didn't have to be the only time,_ Jack thinks. _But it will be. And it will be enough._


End file.
